


Perfect

by psychoglambert



Category: Adam Lambert - Fandom
Genre: Adam - Freeform, Joe - Freeform, Lambert - Freeform, M/M, Ratliff, Tommy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoglambert/pseuds/psychoglambert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Joe realizes that nothing in his life will ever be perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Title:** Perfect

 **Author:** psychoglambert

 **Summary:** Tommy Joe realizes that nothing in his life will ever be perfect.

 **Rating:** MA18+

 **Note:** Some of the sexual practices depicted in this work of fiction may be inappropriate to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

 **Disclaimer:** This is a non-profit non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events here in actually occurred. Or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real person's whose names are used without permission. The author intends no offense to anyone. The events appearing in the following text are products entirely of the author's imagination and are not meant to be in any way taken as having actually happened. The author owns none of the characters.

 

 

Tommy ends the song with a loud screeching, screaming guitar lick.

 

"Awesome! That was fuckin' _awesome,_ you guys!" Adam excitedly yells. The band is getting ready for the upcoming tour, _We Are Glamily_ , and Tommy, Adam, and the whole band is more excited than anything.

 

Tommy rips his guitar off of his body, tossing it in the stand. He takes his red Solo cup off his Marshall stack, bringing it up to his lips and taking a long swig of the whiskey.

 

Adam walks up to him, throwing an arm around Tommy's shoulders. "Hey Kitty. Wanna come over to my place tonight?" Adam asks, kissing the side of his head. Just then, Isaac comes up.

 

"Uh, actually, I was planning on asking Tommy myself if he wanted to come over to my house." Isaac plants himself on Tommy's other side.

 

Tommy shifts uncomfortably, grabbing his Fender Jaguar and bringing it over to his case. "Well, I was just planning on staying home and watching some movies, actually. I don't feel like going anywhere today."

 

Adam follows him like a creepy molester-stalker. "But Tommy! I wanna have you for dinner tonight!" Adam whines, running his fingers through his two-toned hair.

 

Tommy zips up his guitar case and throws it over his shoulder. "Listen, how 'bout tomorrow? I'll be up for it then, okay?" Without waiting for Adam's answer, he hurries out of the building, making his way to his Mustang. He tosses his guitar in the back, settling into the driver's seat and starting the car. Tommy peals out of the parking lot, his emotions flying around like crazy.

 

When Tommy pulls up in his driveway, he sits in the car for a minute, thinking. _Adam's never really cared for me. I want him so bad, and all he uses me for is for his own playtime. Get real, Ratliff. You're never going to have him, and you just agreed all those times when Adam wanted to fuck you because that's as close as you're going to get to him. You'll never be anything to him..._

 

_It was early spring, and Tommy and Adam were laying in Adam's bed, panting. They had just had sex. While they were laying there, Adam's phone rang._

_"Hello?" Adam answered, glancing towards Tommy. "Oh, hey baby. Yeah, I'm fine...how are you? Good...yeah...just hanging around the house...huh? You're coming over? Okay, bye, love you."_

_Tommy listened to the words coming out of Adam's mouth, wondering just who the hell that would have been._

_Adam leapt off the bed, grabbing Tommy's clothes and throwing them at him. "Hurry up! Get dressed, Tommy! Sauli is coming over," Adam explained, pulling on his shorts._

_Tommy's mouth fell open. "What? I thought he was in Finland?!" he said, feeling like a piece of glass has poked into his heart._

_Running a hand through his hair, Adam looks at Tommy guiltily. "Tommy, I'll explain later, okay? Just go, 'cause he's coming over."_

_Tommy looks at Adam with a hurt expression. "Fine. I'll go, 'cause you don't want your sweet little boyfriend to find out you're banging your guitarist. Thanks a lot, Adam."_

Tommy breaks himself away from his thoughts, grabbing his guitar and unlocking the house door. He steps inside, locking the door behind him (you just never know what kind of crazies are in the big cities) and heads toward his 'bat cave', carefully taking his guitar out of the case and hanging it up on the Grim Reaper hands attatched to his wall that are meant to hold a guitar.

 

Tommy opens the minifridge, taking out a bottle of whiskey. He pops it open, placing it to his lips and taking a long swig. He splays himself out on the comfy couch, grabbing the remote and turning on his TV and DVR. He scrolls down to the recorded episode of the _Bates Motel_ that he missed, on account of one of Adam's impromptu practice sessions.

 

Tommy stares at the TV screen, not really watching the picture flash by. He continues downing the whiskey, the burn feeling good in his throat.

 

Tommy's phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out to check the I.D. _Sauli,_ it reads.

 

"Hello?" Tommy says.

 

"Tommy, you're my friend, but I want you to stay away from my boyfriend!" Sauli's voice comes from the earpiece.

 

Tommy holds the phone to his ear in shock. "What? What's going on?"

 

"I'll tell you 'what's going on,' Ratliff! You're stealing my boyfriend, you whore!"

 

Tommy's eyes start to water. A tear slips down his cheek, the droplet holding onto his chin before falling into his lap.

 

"Okay," Tommy says softly, hanging up. _What the hell is going on?_

 

Tommy tosses his phone down, pausing the episode of _Bates Motel_. Tears start falling down his cheeks, and his nose starts running. Furious at himself for crying, Tommy stalks into his bathroom to run a hot bath, thinking it will make him feel better.

 

As the tub fills, Tommy goes back into his bat cave and picks up his phone, texting Sauli.

 

_I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't the one who instigated it, no matter how whorish you think I am._

 

Sauli's reply comes back almost immediately.

 

_I don't care, you bitch. You're a slutty, good-for-nothing whore! I know you sucked Adam off. Go to Hell, fucking Atheist. You're all going to, anyway._

 

Tommy throws his phone down in irritation, heading back in the bathroom to check on his bath. _Here I thought Sauli was my friend,_ Tommy thinks bitterly.

 

Tommy looks in the mirror at his made-up face. His hair is fluffed to perfection, his make-up immaculate. _I am a whore. All this for a rehearsal. Just for Adam, too. The whole fucking world would be better off without me._

 

Angry at himself for doing this, he strips off his clothes, stepping into the tub. The warm water soothes him, but the tears keep coming. A flood of things from Tommy's past and present come and hit him all at once. Tommy runs his fingers over his leg, feeling the skin there. Getting up, water dripping off him, Tommy leans over to his pants pocket and pulls out his pocket knife. He settles back into the tub, switching the blade open.

 

Tommy runs the sharp metal over his skin, over the goose-bumps. He brings up his leg and places the knife on his inner calf, up by his knee. Tommy presses down on the blade, drawing a line parallel to his foot, watching as blood seeps up to fill the cut. He winces, the cut burning. He continues pressing the knife down, and draws a 'U' shaped half-circle connected to the line to make a 'P.' Tommy quickly carves more cuts into his leg--another line like the previous, then three opposite lines, making a 'E,' a long line with a 'U' and a diagonal line, making an 'R,' another long line, with two opposite lines, making an 'F,' four more lines, creating another 'E,' a 'C' and a 'T.' By this time Tommy feels a little light-headed, blood flowing out of his leg. The cuts spell out _P-E-R-F-E-C-T_. 

 

Tommy leans his head back, watching the white tiles spattered with his blood on the bathroom walls swim around, as if they are moving. He glances down, seeing the hot bathtub water by now completely red from his blood--he can't even see the tattoos that decorate his arms underneath the water. Tommy runs his fingers along the letters, watching as his deep red blood flows through his fingers and makes little trickles as it goes into the water. He realizes he can't feel his toes or fingers anymore, and his vision is gradually growing black around the edges. Everything seems fuzzy to him, and his head slumps back, hitting the bathroom tiles hard. Before Tommy succumbs into the darkness, a song runs through his head. He can hear every note perfectly, and the singer sounds like an angel.

_A red river of screams...underneath, tears in my eyes...underneath, stars in my black and blue sky...And underneath, under my skin, underneath the depths of my sin...look at me, now do you see...Underneath, underneath..._

Then the blackness takes over, pulling Tommy under.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
